Lost
by Cheeseball417
Summary: Sara realizes Neal is the love of her life, less than a day too late. Set directly after the conclusion of season 3.
1. Realization

I got the call around 2 in the afternoon. I had been waiting for this phone call for what seems like an eternity, but in reality it was only since he had handed over that lost painting to me earlier today. It was in that moment that I realized how much I wanted him free, off that anklet. While I had been waiting for the official phone call, I was also hoping for Neal to show up on my doorstep, which was precisely 2.3 miles from his base, and do something that only Neal would. With my expectations set so high, it was a shock to me when not only did the panel tell me they were still uncertain of Neal's fate, but that I had to come in for questioning tomorrow at nine regarding the parolee in question.

The first thing I did after that pathetic excuse of a verdict was call Peter. He answered on the first ring. "Peter wha..."

"He's gone." His voice was monotone. "He fled the country, he must have. He knew that Kramer had it out for him. Even if he was set free, there was no way it would stay that way for long..." The phone fell from my hand, clattering loudly on the floor. I heard Peter calling my name, but it sounded far away, almost through a tunnel, but I didn't care whether Peter was through that tunnel or on the phone or right next to me for that matter because I was already out the door.


	2. Closure

The cab pulled up to the grand townhouse located exactly 2.3 miles from myown modest abode. I climbed the stairs with an urgency, raising my hand to knock only to have June open the door before I could.

"He thought you might come." She said with a sad smile on her face, "He left this for you." She handed me a small scrap of paper folded in half.

"Thank you, June." I hesitated, "Do... do you think I could go up there, just for old times sake?"

"I don't see why not, dear. Just let yourself out when you're done." With that I climbed up the flight of stairs I had climbed so many times, first as a pursuer, then as a lover, and as a friend and now as the girl left behind by a man who a few years ago she had sworn to hate forever.

I paused at the door, contemplating whether or not to knock. In the end, I did, it seemed right, although I knew he wasn't there. I swung the door open, and walked across the hardwood floors. I stopped directly in the center, taking in the surroundings, the easel with the canvas facing away from me, the wine bottles in a specific arrangement, the made be, the books in neat piles on the end tables and the dinning table. It looked like any other day, as if I had just arrived before Neal had gotten home from the office.

I dropped my large Louis Vuitton tote where I was standing and walked to the closet, no suits were missing, but his drawers were almost completely empty. There were a few pairs of sweatpants and sweatshirts remaining, but aside from that there was nothing. As I closed the drawers a urge I couldn't control swept over me. I opened the drawer and picked up all the remaining cloths, stuffing them into my bag. No one would miss them so why couldn't I have them?

After I packed away the additions to my wardrobe, I inspected the painting hanging on the easel. It was a beautiful landscape of a beach with tall jungle-like trees. In the middle of the trees was a small clearing, from which, a tall narrow white building stood higher than then the trees. _A lighthouse._ A very familiar lighthouse, but I couldn't place it. I snapped a picture on my phone.

The time had come to read the letter. I sat on the bed and unfolded it, my heartbeat racing.

"Sara-

I'm sorry I couldn't say this to you in person, but I figure this is better than nothing. I wish we had more time together, but I regret nothing. Peter and Mozzie might take credit for getting me past Kate, but it was you. It was your kindness and compassion, but also your independence that got me through. Without you, I don't know what would've happened to me. I wish you the best in life, I hope you have everything I could never have provided you. Please, don't follow me, no matter what. I love you.

-Neal"

That night I forwent my silk pajamas and slept in Neal's sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. His smell enveloped me, a mixture of his cologne and sweat. I couldn't sleep that night, no matter how I tossed and turned.


	3. Broken

One Week Later...

Every morning I woke up either in tears or something of the sort, crying about the nightmare, screaming for him to come back. It took me until the drive to work, when I pass _his_ house, to realize it wasn't a nightmare and that the police stationed outside June's house were very, very real.

Two Weeks Later...

I couldn't get out of bed in the mornings. I didn't sleep at all. At this point, my life had no days and nights, it was just one long day with parts the sun stopped shining. I set three alarms each night, knowing by the time the third blares, I will need to get up for work. But that was a good thing, at work, I didn't have time to think about him, it was all about trying to find the next stolen good, but whenever a piece of art or anything else within his range of interest, I always stop to wonder whether it was him.

Three Months Later...

It was getting better now. Slowly but surely June's house was slipping away and blending in with the rest of the street, having no special meaning. Stolen art stopped having an effect on me other than pure annoyance towards the criminal who was obviously not on par with him, having left behind some form of a trail. All was well, or at least as well as it could be. That is, until Peter called.

"We got him." My heart skipped a beat.

"Who do we have exactly?" I asked, knowing it's too good to be true.

"Kramer. Turns out, he not only teaching the youth of America the perks of the F.B.I. but also the was around the F.B.I. Turns out he is also forcing many agents under him to comply to his every whim. Basically if he says jump, they jump. With his reliability destroyed, any allegations and accusations he made that hasn't already been proven have officially been dropped."

"Which means?" Maybe it wasn't too good to be true.

"Neal is innocent and the council decided to disregard his running due to an assumption I allowed them to make that Neal was running from a corrupt Kramer."

"So...?" I could here the hopefulness in my own voice.

"That means that they are decide his sentence length based on what we said at the hearing, as if he never ran away. They decided he's free."

"That's great! That means he can come home!" For the first time in months I felt an actual smile pull at the corners of my mouth.

"Thing is he won't know He's not exactly wanted so we can't use F.B.I. funds and I don't know about you, but I don't have the money to scour the world for Neal Caffrey. I'm sorry Sara, but I though you ought to know at least that."


	4. Clutter

"Hey Sara." The F.B.I. agent stood on my front stoop with several large cardboard boxes beside him.

"Hey Peter." I pulled the blanket around me tighter. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I stopped by Sterling and Bosch to deliver these to you, but they said you called in sick?"

"I am sick." I stated. _Heartsick._

"I know its not easy. Believe it or not, I miss him too. But you can't spend all your sick days lying around eating double fudge ice cream." _How did he know about the ice cream?_

"Peter, you don't get it. What would you do if Elizabeth disappeared? What if when you finally thought you can move on it turned out she could come back, she just didn't know it." I felt my eyes glazing over with the promise of tears. "You have no idea what it's like knowing that maybe you could've done something to help. You did all you could; I know you warned him that Kramer was coming for him. I spent my last few days hiding from him."

"Sara, you saved him. When you said he was your art expert. If you hadn't saved him there, I wouldn't have been able to warn him. It was a group effort." He paused, hoping to make an impact, "Anyway, we found them."

"I'm sorry, what?" My blanket fell from my grasp, pooling around my feet.

"I'm investigating a forger, not exactly Neal-level, but his peices are convincing. He's careless, though. We caught him on an ATM."

"Well congrats on your lead, but what does this have to do with Neal and Mozzie?"

"Mozzie was in the background. I ran it through facial recognition. Perfect match."

"So Neal must be close by..." A rare smile graced my face.

"But, I can't go looking for him and the F.B.I. has no reason to."

"Can you at least tell me where the sighting was?" My hope was diminished, but not gone.

"I can't until we finish the investigation."

"You've broken the rules before..." I pled.

"I'll think about it. Anyway, these boxes contain the remaining 'evidence' the FBI had seized when Neal ran away. They were dropped in my office this morning. Thought you'd like first grabs, well, after Jane got her books and such back."

"Thanks Peter, but what am I supposed to do with boxes of men's clothing and a bunch of paintings?"

"Isn't that Neal's shirt you're wearing?"

Peter helped me drag all of the boxes into my living room, and there were a lot of them. Apparently, catching an ex-con turned con again was top priority. This being said, it isn't too much of a shock that they had confiscated everything from books to paintings to suits to an old razor. Peter left me alone once the final box was inside and I went to work.

There were fifteen designer suits, thirty dress shirts and two pairs of dress shoes from the closet, plus the cloths I had taken. There were razors and shampoos and conditioners in another box with towels and such in another. There were fifteen bottles of wine, none of which were open.

Then I got to the five paintings. None of which were forged, at least none that I could recognize. The first held the picture of the New York skyline from June's balcony with the sunset reflected in the glass skyscraper. The second was of a woman drawn in charcoal, one I recognized from our hijacked date. And the third was the newer one, the one of the beach. I scrutinized each of the pictures, but there were no hidden messages that I could find. The weirdest thing was that he had colored in part of the black widows painting.

I came to the last box. It was the smallest, about the size of a shoebox. It was labeled, "Safety Deposit-Neal Caffery 1111." I slowly opened it, almost afraid of what I might find. There was some money and some papers, one of which was from the investigation stating when each item was placed inside. There was one thing that caught my eye, a ring. It was not the one Neal had gotten for Kate, it was new, at least to me. It had an understated elegance to it with a golden band and a single diamond. There was, however a family crest on the inside, opposite the diamond there was a tiny inscription reading "A coeur vallant, rien impossible." A family motto if I ever did see one.

"To a valliant heart, nothing is impossible." In French. Never would've pegged Caffery to be French.

"Did you hear?" The little bald man I had been waiting on for hours just walked in the sliding doors.

"Did I hear about what? The faked moon landings? Faked assassinations? Aliens being on the planet for decades?"

"That I'm free." The news had come in today. A small blurb in the America section of the paper, less than 3 inches long. It simply stated "Neal Caffery, convicted of bond forgery in 2006, set free by a Rule 35 motion. During Caffery's trial, Special Agent Kramer was arrested for treachery and witness tampering."

"I might've picked that up somewhere." Mozzie sat at the other end of the table.

"I could go back."

"No you can't. Everyone there has moved on. This is your life now, Mike Turner."


	5. Inquiry

"Sara, haven't seen you here lately." Jones walked up to me, "Want some coffee, just made a fresh batch."

"Actually, I'm just stopping in to see Peter. Is he here?" I craned my neck around to find the man.

"Ya, in his office."

I climbed the stairs, peering into Peter's office. He was sitting on his desk, facing an older woman, who sat in a chair across from him. I paused in the doorway, listening to their conversation.

"Listen, I've already told you're all I know." The wariness in the woman's voice was evident, even though I couldn't see her face.

"Alright then Ms. Parker, I guess you can go. Have a nice day." The woman rose from her seat. If this was a movie, right now, everything would be shot in slow motion. She walked past me, grazing my left shoulder, turning her head the full 90 degrees and looking me straight in the eye, increasing the angle as she walked pass to continue the contact until it was humanly impossible where she snapped her head straight ahead and time seemed to start again.

"Uh Peter?" I said, still watching the woman walking out the door, "Eve Parker. She was a friend of Neal's from before prison."

"What? Neal kept in touch with friends?" He had never mentioned any Ellen Parker.

"Aside from Mozzie, he's never in constant contact with anyone. Even Alex and Kate were out of his reach." Neal said, organizing the papers in a file.

"So what did we find out about her?" I sat in the seat Ellen had just vacated.

"Well, not counting when he showed up at her house right before he fled, she hadn't seen Neal since his 18th birthday. She's been in witness protection since she testified in a case regarding a rogue cop about twenty years ago."

"So she was no help?"

"That was all she would tell me."

"Maybe I could try?" I prodded. This woman must know something. Neal gave her the Rafael, he trusted her.

"Good luck with that." He gave me the woman's address.

* * *

"Hey Moz? You erased us."

"So?" The bald man looked up from his newspaper, "This way no one can find us." As his sentence went on it slowed, the realization dawning on him.

* * *

The door opened just a sliver, part of the woman's face appeared, a single blue eye showing. "Ms. Parker?"

"Listen, I already told you Agent Burke all I know. So can you people just leave me alone?"

"I'll try, but I'm not F.B.I. I'm just friends with Peter. I work for Sterling and Bosch as a recoverer. I was, am, a good friend of Neal's."

"Really? Because I happen to remember you testifying against him at his trial." The door started closing.

"Please, wait." I pressed myself against the door. "I was the one he brought the painting to, the one he took from you."

"And because of that he went on the run."

"Listen, you obviously care about Neal, but please, I need to find him."

"Why? To put him back in prison?" The door slammed shut.

"Please!" I called through the door, "I loved him! I- I still do."

The door opened again, but this time it wasn't Eve, it was a man. He was around 6 feet tall, with dirty blonde hair that was cut neatly. When I saw his eyes I froze.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Sara Ellis, and you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Caffery. James Caffery."


	6. Communication

"So, Mr. Caffery? If you don't mind, what happened between you and your son?" I looked at the man sitting on the love seat across from me. It was obvious where Neal had got his expensive taste from.

"Back when Neal was 8 I was convicted of planting evidence. I was a cop. Helen here was my partner." He paused, "Neal and I are very much alike, except he never needed to frame someone to get away with his...work, he just got away, no questions asked. Until he got sloppy and got too much cash too quickly."

"So you kept tabs on him? How? I mean he said you were dead. That you died a hero."

"Of course that's what Cammy would say." He chuckled to himself, "I did keep tabs on my son, I might be an art thief, but that doesn't mean I didn't love my son. Being a cop, I heard the stories about kidnappings, saw the corpses of children, I swore that would never happen to my son. When he was four, a string of kidnappings were starting, all children under 5, eventually we busted the ring, bunch of guys selling kids at the age they don't remember their real parents, gold mine, if you don't get caught. Anyway, I'm off track. I had a tracking chip implanted in him by a buddy of mine, totally off the books."

"So that means we can trace him! We can have him within 24 hours!" My Neal was coming back.

"Only one problem, deary. He found it. Don't know when and don't know how, but he did."

"That's my Neal." Claimed Helen smiling and shaking her head. "He found a way to rig it, this way when we pulled it up it showed several locations."

My stomach fell, "Can I at least see the locations?"

"I suppose, not gonna do ya any good." Caffery shrugged.

Caffery pulled a laptop from the table to him, typing a way. A few moments later he spun it around showing me a map of the world. There were five bright red dots on the map. Instantaneously, each dot sprouted a triangle at the base of which enlarged views of the location of the dots appear. There were three dots all showing right near June's apartment, one was the buildings across from it, the other was the Empire State Building, the final was June's apartment itself. Another was showing the Eiffel Tower. The final was showing a beach somewhere in the Caribbean.

"All these screen shots look familiar." I squinted, "And why are there three points on Jane's apartment."

"Neal meant for these five pictures to show up. It has to be a clue." Helen spoke up.

Five pictures. All of which I'd already seen five pictures, five paintings. Five paintings of the five pictures. "I know where to look."


	7. Disappointment

"You're sure about this?" Caffrey asked, knife in hand.

"It can be in any of them except for the one of the girl." He looked at me questioningly.

"I watched him paint it. It's the same." I moved the painting away from the danger zone. This was my painting, well, drawing. I had watched it come to life start to finish, and that made it feel like it was mine. And I would be lying if I said I didn't fantasize about being that woman with the the rock on her finger, minus the whole serial killer thing.

We went to work, Helen and I each taking one painting's canvas from its frame and James taking two. We found nothing. No picture, no letter, nothing. I sunk back onto my heals, "It was a false lead." And now the paintings are gone.

"Maybe we should check that other one." James craned his neck looking for it.

"No. That one stays." I barked.

"Well, if that's all, I need to get back." James rose to his feet.

"Back to where? You're hiding from your ex-wife." Helen scoffed.

He shrugged in a very Neal-ish way before twirling his keys around his fingers. Figures.

"If you don't mind me asking, how is it that you own a Rolls-Royce?" There was no way a convicted dirty cop could own a car like this.

"Well, you see girly, they caught me for planting evidence, nothing else. Well, a couple things, but nothing big. Far as I'm concerned, I did my time it's mine. Let's go Helen." He walked out the door.

"I would check the other painting. Neal loved the classics." She winked at me while passing by.

That night after dinner, I found myself sitting on a barstool in my kitchen, swirling my wine around in the glass and staring at the charcoal drawing propped against the back of my couch. My mind flashed back to the night it was painted. Our hijacked date and being rushing into the closet with Neal. Pressing myself against his back as I watched him sketch this masterpiece in under two minutes. He used charcoal. Black charcoal. There was no color. I had been staring at the partially colored version for so long I had forgotten that it had once been simply black and white.

I stared at the coloring. There were reds and blues and yellows. Honestly, it looked like a toddler had just chosen collars at random and did their best to color in between lines, any lines. I stared at it and stared and stared until my vision got blurry. That's when I saw it. "Neal loves the classics," I muttered to myself.

I grabbed a knife and crouched down next to the painting, placing the tip of the knife right in the middle of the X. I slowly pressed the knife down slicing the canvas. I pulled the knife down creating a long, thin hole in the drawing. Placing the knife on the ground I slowly pulled the canvas apart, just enough to reveal the burner phone attached to the back of the canvas directly across from the incision.

With the discovery of the phone, I felt no remorse as I ripped the piece to shreds just to get to the phone. It was a small phone, nothing fancy, probably a few years old. I picked up the phone and flipped it open.

"You have 1 new message. Read. Cancel." _Read._

"Finally. You found it." The message read. _Options. Call._

Meanwhile, in paradise

"I'm going for a swim Moz." Neal walked out the sliding glass door and into the dawn.

"As you do every morning." Mozzie called out after him, "_They_ shall soon catch on!"

Mozzie puttered around the kitchen for a while until he heard a strange pulsing vibration sound coming from a drawer. Too bad it was only a decorative drawer. But Mozzie was certain there was something in that false drawer. It could be someone out to get them, but against his better judgment, Mozzie knelt down with a knife in hand and placed the tip in the small crack. With a lot of wiggling the drawer came loose and slid free. He peered inside. A cell phone. Burner. Neal.

"Hello?" Mozzie hadn't realized he had picked up the phone until he spoke.

"Mozzie?"

"Sara?" How did... Neal.

"Mozzie! Where's Neal? Is he alright? He's free! He can come home." She said all in one breath.

"Sara, we are not coming back. Neal is happy here, Neal can swim and has plenty of inspiration for his art."

"Let me talk to him." She demanded.

"No, he's off on his morning swim. Goodbye Sara." He hung up the phone, dropping it into the sink and turning on the industrial garbage disposal.


	8. Decisions

I hung up the phone. Neal was living his life. He had moved on. At least Mozzie said so. I suppose it was a good thing that it was Mozzie who picked up instead of Neal, it would've been too embarrassing to be rejected by Neal.

There was a forceful knock on the door. I put the phone on the kitchen counter and answered. There was a gun pointed directly at my face.

"Step back." The young woman commanded. I did as she said and she followed me in, slamming the door behind her. It was dark out, no one would have seen her.

"Listen, I suggest you leave, I have F.B.I. agents coming over."

"No. You don't. You were just entertaining James Caffrey and Helen. You wouldn't want F.B.I. agents to know you're associated with them. Unless, of course, your going to give away their locations. What did the promise you?" She pressed the gun to the side of my head.

"You know them?"

"Yes." She answered simply. "Are you planning on selling them out? Selling _him _out?"

"No. I lied."

"Then why did you visit them? Why did they come here?" She probed.

"We were looking for James' son."

"You were looking for Neal?" The girl's gun arm wavered and confusion showed in her eyes. That's when I saw the necklace. It was a simple golden chain with a ring hanging off it. I could just make out the part of the inscription, but I knew the rest.

"A coeur vallant, rien impossible." I muttered. She froze but said nothing.

At this realization, I studied the girl more carefully. She had dark brown eyes and sun kissed skin. She had an air of confidence about her. She wore expensive cloths from what I could tell. A flowing pink halter top, the loop had diamonds around it. Tight white pants ending in a pair of brown heeled boots that reached her about 3/4 of the way to her knee. With dark black sunglasses. She either hadn't planned a confrontation tonight or she didn't expect me to be a threat, after all, it wouldn't be easy to run in those shoes, or those pants by the looks of it.

"You were on a stake out. You dressed how a New Yorker would dress, or at least you attempted. So now, only a few questions remain, who were you watching and why do I have a gun pointed at my head?" I inched my hand back on the counter I was pressed against, reaching for the knife I had left there.

"Please." She scoffed, "Do I look like an amateur? Get your hands in the air, touch the knife and I'll blast your brains all over your stainless steal." She held her gun firm and steady as she slid her glasses up onto her head, pushing her hair back in the process. That's when I saw them.

Blue eyes. James eyes. Neal eyes.

"You're a Caffrey." I whispered. This time the gun fell from her grasp.

* * *

"Mozzi- what happened to the cabinets?" The drawer I had sealed to hide the burner phone was opened.

"Whom did you give the number to?" He demanded more than questioned.

"Well since you answered it, I'm sure you know."

"Actually I don't Neal. The cabinet started buzzing. When I got to the phone I destroyed it. Whom did you give the number to?"

"I didn't give the number to anyone. I left burner phones and sent them a message from that one."

"Who has the phones?"

"Peter, Sara, June." _And Helen_. "But they don't know. I had to hide them. But since someone called it means someone is looking for us."

"No it doesn't. Someone probably just found a phone stashed away in a painting, it was in a painting am I right? And decided to call and see who picked up. Too bad no one did."

"Moz! Why can't we just go back?" I demanded, "I'm not wanted anymore!"

"Not by Kramer, but we gained our wealth by selling Nazi treasure, the suits won't think to kindly on that." He yelled. In a softer voice, "Now, you need to make a choice. Live out your days here, a free man with all the wealth in the world, or go back to New York, penniless with hopes that someone will take you in? Either way I am staying here. With the money."

* * *

"How did you know that?" The girl managed to stutter out.

"I recognized the eyes," I paused and looked at the other girl, "Now who are you?"

"I'm Juliette Roux." The girl reached down for her gun.

"Don't worry Juliette, I'm a friend of Neal's. Are you his niece or something?"

"I know, I'm so much younger than him." She laughed, turning on her gun's safety and tucking it into the back of her pants. This was such a dramatic change from how she just was a few minutes ago. "I'm his baby sister. I'm 24."

"That's almost ten years difference..." I muttered.

"Ya, my dad never told my mom about his thefts, kept the money in an off shores account. She had a baby boy who was growing up and wanted a girl, so here I am!"

"But you aren't a Caffrey?" I prodded. I was amazed at how much I was getting out of this girl so much easier than Neal.

"My mom was pissed at him when he went away. She divorced him and started using her maiden name, Roux. I was conceived right before he went away."

"I'm Sara, by the way." I extended my hand.

"Sara... why does that name ring a bell?" Her eyes had turned cold, she already knew why and I could see her hands twitching toward her gun, "Oh ya, you put him away." Her hand was on her gun.

"Wait! I did, but I'm his friend now! I swear! We were friends!"

"You weren't friends. You don't sound convincing enough. There was something else. What is it? A falling out? Were you frienemies? How pathetic! I thought those went away once you hit middle aged!"

"We wer- what do you mean middle aged!" I was 30 for God sake!

"Doesn't matter. Why are you still chasing him?" The safety came off.

"I loved him!" I yelled in hysteria.

"Still not the truth!" Finger was on the trigger. "Give me one reason not to kill you!"

"I LOVE HIM!" I covered my face, hoping to block the shot.

* * *

Silence. A silence that went on and on. "Moz... I..."

"No Neal. Choice. Now. Can't run from me."


	9. Sprees

"You love him?" Juliette whispered. Her gun stayed steady, unlike before, but her eyes locked on mine searching, probing. "You love him." She stated.

I watched the girl. She has to be bipolar or something. Her gun lowered, but her eyes stayed on me, "Take it." She handed me the gun "I'm sorry. If you knew my family you would understand why I have trust issues."

"I could imagine; Neal wasn't easy either." I eagerly accepted the gun, slipping it into my pants as she had before,

"You said you were looking for Neal. Is there anything I could do to help?" She answered after a long silence.

"That ring you're wearing around your neck, what does it say on it?"

"My mom's family motto, you know it already, 'A coeur vallant, rien impossible.' For a valiant heart, nothing is impossible."

"Is that the only one?"

"There are two. Somewhere down the line, there was a divorce and the wife refused to give it back so the husband made another identical ring. Eventually, both rings went to the same child so they were both in the family. Since then they are handed down to the two oldest children. Basic family tradition." She laughed.

"I'll be right back." I hurried off to my bedroom, ruffling through the top drawer of my dresser. Finally finding the object of my search, I went back to the kitchen, "This is the other one right?"

"It looks like it... But its fogs up." She scrutinized the rock.

"So that would mean it's a fake diamond. Since real diamonds don't fog up. Is yours real?"

She quickly did the same test on the one hanging around her neck, "It's real."

"Well maybe your...ancestor... didn't have the money for two rings." I beat around the bush.

"Trust me. No matter how long ago, our family always had enough money to buy two rings, honestly I'm surprised they were so small." The girl paused, "How did you get that ring?"

"You aren't going to threaten to shoot me again are you?" I joked, "I got it from a safety deposit box Neal had. A friend of ours delivered it to me."

"What else was there?" She demanded.

"Um.. some papers, money... nothing really important." I tried to recall.

"Get me some tweezers and ... you don't happen to have laser tweezers, do you?" She stared at the non-laser tweezers with disgust. "Alright then. Let's get to work."

"Mozzie, don't make me do this." I begged the shorter man.

"Do whatever you want, just remember who it was who got this all ready and who was always there for you." He turned to walk away.

"Fine! I'll stay."

"And there we go." The faux-diamond fell out onto the counter. It was a clean brake, as if it was meant to fall out.

"It was another clue." I muttered. "How did you know?"

"When he was 18, he left home. But before he left, he told me to 'Trust not even the oldest secret and leave no rock unturned.' I was 9. I still remember. Get me a magnifying glass." I did as was told. She examined the exposed gold for a while, "Family. France. They are right there, engraved."

"Let me see!" I pushed her aside, examining the bed myself. There it was, those two words, clear as day.

"Get your laptop." The young woman took it from me and made a series of clicks. Ten minutes later, she burst out, "I got it. I know where Neal is!"

"How do you...?"

"Trust me will you? Now get some rest, tomorrow, we are going shopping."

* * *

"Please tell me that card is real." I whispered as the younger woman handed over what I recognized due to my profession as a Coutts World Card. I had only seen a real one once of twice, but thousands of fakes had crossed my path. It was one of the most ridiculously expensive credit cards in the world.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. It's real." She handed it to the all-too-happy cashier.

"You stole it!" I whispered.

"Calm down. Just because the men in my family resort to petty theft doesn't mean I have to." She laughed, "Now take your bags and onto the next store!"

The day went on like this. She went store to store, dropping ridiculous amounts of cash on items you could find almost exact copies of at your local Target. It got to a point where I stopped feeling suspicious or guilty, I think I figured I was already going to jail for theft or fraud or being an accomplice, so why not have fun. It wasn't until the very end of the day that I was surprised once again.

"Oh and one last stop." The girl pulled me and our hundreds of bags into another store.

"How have we not gotten mugged?" I laughed as we walked through a small hallway connecting the entrance to the bulk of the store.

"Simple, Caffreys have a certain air about them. People know we can kick ass. Even I, a 24-year-old trust fund kid, give off the message that if people mess with me, they will rue the day." The hallway opened up, "Now, I promised I'd do Neal a favor." It was the Valentino's Neal and I had visited on our shopping spree.

The ever confident girl walked up to the counter and I followed her like a puppy dog, "I'm here to pick up an order placed a while ago, I was told it would be ready around now."

"What's the name?" The clerk didn't lookup from her computer.

"Roux. Neal Roux." Immediately the woman's head jerked up.

"Miss Roux! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize it was you! Please allow me to get some champagne while you wait. I will bring you a list of the order your brother placed."

Juliette and I walked to the small sitting area to wait for the sales woman. "How did you know about the order?" She had spoken to Neal.

"Same way I found my dad. I followed Neal." She laughed, "When he was recovering your precious painting, I was following him. I followed him to Helen's house when he confronted me. He knew I was there the whole time. He told me he might be in trouble, he said to trust Sara and Peter and to pick up this order around this time, said it would be a gift for you."

"He...he said that?" The girl nodded. I was one of the two people he trusted, "If he told you to trust me, why did you hold a gun to my head for the better part of that first night?"

She looked at me like it was obvious, "Neal is an artist, he's more passionate than I am. He trusts to easily in my opinion. I needed to verify."

"Neal doesn't trust easy. He keeps a guard up 24/7." I scoffed.

"He just trusts the wrong people." She conceded, "He trusted Kate, she abandoned him, came back for his money and then almost got him blown up. He trusted our dad and he ended up abandoning us. He trusted that Alex chick, she ditched him. He trusts that Mozzie kid and I guarantee that he is the one keeping Neal away." She paused, accepting the list from the sales woman, who was setting down bag after bag.

What if Mozzie was the one keeping Neal away? It would make sense. Mozzie was the one who orchestrated this entire thing I'm sure. Neal had loved New York. He wouldn't stay away if he didn't have to.

"Mr. Roux has already paid using his card, would you be so kind as to sign for him, Miss Roux?" The sales girl was so much more pleasant now that she knew who she was dealing with. Juliette quickly signed with many flourishes. "The two of you were always so good at signing for one another. Now we just need his pin."

"2634." She stated.

"That was his pin, it was changed, however. The same day this order was placed." I glanced down at the recite. It was placed later in the day of our shopping spree.

"Is it 1111?" I spoke up, remembering his trying to guess my pin and his social security box, which I decided last night was addressed to me.

"It is." The woman looked taken aback. "And you are?"

"Sara Ellis." The woman eyed me. I could almost see the dollar signs in her eyes, I suppose knowing the pin of one of her clients was a big deal.

"Would you like me to call you a car?"

"That would be fabulous." Juliette took over the conversation again.

The car, more like limo, pulled up to the curb moments later. The chauffeur loaded all our bags into the car. We hopped in and took off. One step closer to finding Neal.


	10. Movement

"This is how it's happening." Juliette began as soon as the cab's door closed, concealing them from the night.

Juliette had woken Sara up at 2a.m telling her to get dressed and pack her toiletries, they were leaving. That was all, until they piled into the small cab with their oversized carry-ons, both packed by Juliette.

"Last night..."

"You mean an hour ago or a few hours ago?" I quipped, trying to curl up against the seat cushion and fall back asleep.

"Last night." She asserted, "I made arrangements for our travel. We will be taking a train from Penn Station to Miami, at least that's what our tickets say, but we will actually be boarding a flight in North Carolina. The flight will take us back up to Connecticut where we will board a flight to England and then another train to France. Whole thing should take a day or so."

"I have work!" This got my attention, "Some of us don't have money of unknown sources or amounts! Some of us need to work for a living! I can't just leave! My boss will go balistic!"

"Like you are now? Trust the trust fund baby. Money can get a lot of things, including a month of paid vacation. Currently, that's how much time we have, doubt we'll need it all, but thought we'd play on the safe side."

There was silence for a while, "Juliette, why did you go through so much trouble with planning an unfollowable route just to reveal it in the back of a public cab?"

"Hello? Trust fund baby! This is my cousin Phillip. His parents didn't leave him much, they gambled it all away, so he lives with me, he was my best friend growing up, right Phil?" Phil grunted his approval, "And he's been wanting to find Neal, apparently they have an unfinished poker game to attend to. The cab is private and bulletproof. This car could take on a 18 wheeler head to head at 90 miles per hour and no one in it would even get a bruise, maybe a bit of shock, but physically, they'd be perfectly fine."

This girl knew what she was doing. I pondered the rest of the way whether she and Neal had the same teacher or if Neal was the teacher. Both options seemed possible, but what did I know? Apparently, Neal, they man I had spent almost half a year crying over, had a whole other life he was in the process of living, one with expensive suits and dresses with top of the line taxi cabs and the ability to spend thousands of dollars on a whim. It made me wonder whether I was doing the right thing going after him, what if Neal Caffrey was really just some bored rich kid just in it for the girls and the party? That did seem to sum him up. Hadn't he jumped any excuse to question a model? Or put on this elaborate and expensive charade at the bureau's expense?

At some point on the transatlantic flight, in our private first class cabin, I confronted Juliette regarding my fears, but she just shook it off, saying I was being insane and to let her go to bed. So I left it to that and kept my thoughts to myself until we disembarked from our final train ride.

"Where's all our luggage?"

"My step-dad picked it up in Florida and sent it back to New York. Peter will pick it up and bring it back to his place. We'll pick it up there. I packed everything in your carry on." I felt my mouth open and close like a fish out of water. "Now, we need to catch this bus to the docks and from there, a boat is waiting."

There was, in fact, a boat waiting, but boat isn't exactly the word I would use for it. It was a yacht, probably over 300 feet in size. "How far are we going?" I exclaimed.

"Ya... this boat is made for deeper waters, we are taking that one. Don't always assume we are using the biggest and baddest thing in the area." She led me over to a much smaller speed boat. "After you dear!" She pushed me along and handed me the luggage before retreated down the dock, "I need to get the keys from the shack! I almost forgot!"

"Put your hands on your head and turn around slowly." A man's voice came from behind me. I did as I was told, slowly spinning in place. "Who are you?"

The man was old. In fact, had I met him in an alley back in New York I was quite certain I could take him, but here, on this boat, with a gun in his hand, I was no match for him.

"My name is... Sara Roux." I bluffed.

"Oh! Mrs. Roux! I wasn't aware you would be here today. I did not recognize you, did you have work done?" Sara Roux was a person?

"Yes, yes I did. I am here with Juliette, she is getting the keys and should be back quickly. On the subject of the gun, I am glad to know my family's possessions are safe." The gun was long gone, tucked back into its holster. The man, Jean, and I made small talk until Juliette returned.

"Hey Jean, ready to head out?" And we were off.


	11. Confrontation

"Shit." I wasn't normally a swearer, but I made the exception today when I looked out the telescope and saw the woman on the speedboat flying towards the island. Mozzie was out, in Lille, casing a job, so I was the only one in the house.

I grabbed the bag I had packed and ready for something like this and took off running down the several staircases, until I reached my version of the bat cave, basically a large cave made into a boathouse, with a nice big tele-screen. I grabbed the keys and threw my bag in the boat, just then the screen rang, it answered on its own, something it never did, unless there was a Roux at the other end.

"Neal, dear, why are you running from me?" My sister's face appeared on the screen, her hair flying in the wind as the boat zoomed along, her right arm outstretched holding what I assumed to be her phone up to capture her image, "I just want to put a bullet in your head for Daddy dearest." She said in that cutesy voice.

"What makes you think I'd stick around?"

"Come on, Neal. Think about it, you didn't leave me any clues. And come on, you've always been better at hiding than I was seeking, how do you think I found you?" She laughed, "That's right, love, I had your precious ex. I really can see the allure; she's surprisingly trusting. Now, come out and face me like a man, and no funny business, our cousin Phil is here, you owe him don't you? And so is Gramps!" _And we've hit the trifecta!_

"I don't believe you have her." I really wish I hadn't said that, because then she proved it. She aimed her camera down onto the floor of the boat where Sara laid tied with a gag in her mouth and a bloody gash on the side of her head.

"She's still breathing. Give yourself up and I'll let her live." I could see Sara's chest rising and falling.

"Fine, I'll meet you on the docks." I began to end the call.

"And Neal, bring any weapons and your bald friend is dead, too."

"You don't have him." I stated calmly.

"Please, whose boat do you think we're using?" The call ended, she couldn't have Mozzie, he was spending the day in the city, he wouldn't be back until much later and left before I was even awake, I was willing to bet on it

* * *

I watched as they pulled up onto the docks before stepping into the open. "Neal, how good to see you! It's been what? Fifteen years? That's just not right!" She wore that smug smile on her face.

"Just let Sara go, Hal." I used the nickname I knew she hated.

"First of all, I told you to never call me that. And second, my name isn't Halyn anymore, it's Juliette."

"I know. You hear about a lot while you're in my line of work, especially when you go asking around for it." He confident smile faltered, "That's right, Hal, I never stopped watching you." She didn't correct my name choice, "I knew when you changed name, the day it happened."

"Get in the boat, Caffrey." Phillip emerged from the cabin, Sara slung over his shoulder.

"Put Sara on the dock first, let me bring her to the beach." I bargained.

"No. She stays on the dock. Assuming you brought no weapons, I'm sure your friend will find her eventually, if not they both die." Phillp dropped her onto the dock, unceremoniously. "What, she to precious to take a spill?" He scoffed, "Get in." He went back into the cabin.

I stepped onto the boat, giving Sara on last glance before heading off to my certain death.

"You know, I know why you chose Juliette. After Romeo and Juliet, am I wrong? It was your favorite bedtime story. Every night I used to read a part of it to you, and you'd ask me, what does that mean? And I'd answer you with 'It means he loves her so much, he would die for her.'"

"Shut up, Neal." Her gun was out.

"You know, that's what I'm doing now. I'm going to die for her now. I love her so much, that I would die for her. You think you're Juliet? You're not. You moved on. Love, true love, is something you can't forget, something you can't move past. You aren't Juliet just because Phil here killed that kid you were dating, Darcy, right? He was two, three years older than you? It was barely legal wasn't it? That's right I never stopped watching you. I was there when you graduated High School, fifth row, third from the left. I was there when you got your acceptance letter to Columbia, I was that mail man that entire week, just so I could see your face when you got that letter. I was there when you moved into your dorm. I was the... " With each sentence the doubt in her eyes grew stronger, but it wasn't doubt for me, it was doubt for what she was doing. "You aren't a killer, Hal. Not yet. You haven't reached 25. You don't have to do this. You don't have to become an assassin. Out generation is covered! Phil here's got it covered."

"Thing is, Neal, I want to." All doubt cleared from her eyes and the gun rose, right to my head. "Any last words?"

"Yea. I'm sorry sis, and I love you." The gunshot was so quiet, even I could barely hear it. My silencer did its job as I sent a bullet straight into my baby sister's stomach. I knew she would live; I made sure to load the first bullet as a special blank Mozzie had designed for this very situation. It gave off all the signs of a bullet to the gut without it actually happening, in fact, no bullet hit her, just the special vapor it had once contained. She collapsed to the ground, spasming quite a bit, believing she got shot to the stomach. It was a good thing she didn't notice there was no blood.

I found Phil and Gramps next, lounging in the cabin, "Caffrey, your supposed to be..." I shot Phil before he could finish his sentence, this time with a real bullet; he went down. I turned to my Grandfather next and aimed the gun at his head.

"Answer me this Gramps, why her? Why do you continue this? Your the last one on the council. The rest are dead. Mom said you always hated the way our family was. Hated the way they took first graders and turned them into seasoned fighters. By the time I was allowed to drive I could kill a man with my hands and not even break a sweat, all of us could. Why do you continue it?"

"I needed more man power, my children refused to continue after they saw what I did to your mother, and I can't just kill them all, now, can I? Halyn was the next best thing, after you." He stated simply. "And I continue it because it's who we are."

"No. Never group me with you. You killed my mother because she refused to allow her children to partake. You forced us to continue. I'm glad I ran. I'm not a killer."

"Oh but you are. You were the most promising student I'd ever seen. Only a student of your caliber could kill two assassins without so much as a scratch. You were born for this Neal, embrace it."

"How about you embrace this." A clean shot to the head. "I'm not a killer Gramps, but you picked the one person I'd kill for." I knew speaking to his corpse is strange and that people only do it in movies, I'm assuming, but I needed to hear it out loud. Hear the truth in the words. It was only then that I could go back and face Sara.

**A.N.** First off, let me thank everyone who has read this far and everyone who as reviewed and favorited and alerted. Thanks so much guys, it means a lot. Anyway, I realize this chapter might be a wee bit confusing, but it will all be explained in the next one. I promise.


	12. Flashback

When I returned to the docks, clutching Halyn's body to me as it thrashed from the shock the bullet's vapor was causing it, there was no body. "Sara!" I yelled, my sister shrieked at the piercing noise. I ignored the little assassin and continued my calls "Sara! Sara!"

"Neal!" It was Mozzie. "Explain to me why I come back, just a little early, to find Little Miss Repo lying on our dock. With fake blood on her head." _It was fake_. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

"Where is she?"

"She woke up and began talking all this mumbo-jumbo. Stuff about a sister and a painting, a fortune and a whole bunch of stuff. I escorted her to the guest bedroom where she promptly collapsed on the bed."

Mozzie and I made our way up to the house, Halyn in tow. Mozzie went to run some tests on Sara, find out how Halyn and her crew decapacitated her. Meanwhile, I took Halyn back down to my batcave and restrained her in a steal chair built into the rock. I sat in a chair opposite from her and waited.

"Have her drink this, it'll stop the pain." Mozzie came down about ten minutes later.

"I don't need it." Halyn spat. She had recovered rather quickly. "Now scat."

"Halyn, didn't gramps teach you anything? You should be nice to your hosts."

"You killed him." She spat

"He killed hundreds." I shrugged. "How's Sara doing?"

"She has a bunch of drugs in her system, ranging from Ecstasy to good old Marijuana. She'll be fine. I gave her some injections that should calm the drugs' effects, they'll knock her out for a few days, so you can deal with this one." And then he huffed off.

I watched her as she turned her head from me. I piece of her hair fell into her face. "If I move the hair will you bite me?"

"Try me." She stared me down.

"You know, I'm done. Start talking or I call the cops, I'm sure they'd love to know about a ring of assassins and considering I've never killed anyone, at least no one who didn't deserve it. I think I could get immunity quite easily don't you." She didn't speak, "Well, the F.B.I. will be here soon, after all your gang was based in the U.S." I stood and started walking towards the door.

"What about your trial kill? I heard the girl was never heard from again. Her parents hired a P. I. and you didn't get caught. You dated her _sister_ and you didn't get caught." I froze. She knew.

"God, I hope you didn't tell Sara that." I turned to look her in the eyes.

"Don't want your precious Juliet to know?"

"I didn't kill her. I hid her." She looked taken aback, "Obviously gramps didn't tell you the full story. You were too young to know what was really happening. That was the trip I didn't come back from. I broke into their house with the intention to kill, but I couldn't. She was younger than me. She was 16. How could I kill her?"

* * *

(FLASHBACK)

The New York townhouse was dark, as were most of the townhouses on this street, like they should be at 3 in the morning.

I recalled my grandfather's instructions, "He's a senator. He pissed someone off and now he had to pay. Her name is Hannah Ellis. She's in this room." He pointed it out on the blueprint, "I suggest her window, no alarm on it and it's right next to a tree. Don't get many opportunities like that."

I had just turned 18 here in the city, away from my family in their Boston homes. When I returned I would celebrate, if I returned. My father was a dirty cop, somehow this knowledge powered me through my leap over the fence and propelled me up the tree until I found myself at an open window. These people made it too easy.

I climbed into the window, picturing the room I had conjured in my mind. A large master bedroom, dark in the nighttime but themed around a light purple in the daylight. A king size bed would be the center of the room, flanked by nightstands. An entertainment center would be situated angled in a corner, able to be seen from all vantage points. When I actually took in the bedroom I was standing in, I realize I was in the wrong room. This was a teenagers room, with pictures of he Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC hanging about.

I couldn't mess this one up. I couldn't get the wrong person. I slid out into the hallway and explored the upper floor. I found a bathroom and closets and then another bedroom, much like the first, but before I could close the door, a girl sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. "Daddy?"

The girl must have been in early teens, if that. She had bright red hair that fell down her back in waves. She was wearing a set of green pajamas and even in the darkness, they complimented her hazel eyes. "No sweetheart," I thought back to the file my grandfather had given me, it had included the names but no ages, this was Sara, Hannah or Jacqueline. She couldn't be Hannah, she was much to young. I took my chances, "Jacqueline, can you point out Hannah's room for me?"

"Sure," she giggled, "But I'm not Jacqueline, that's my mom. Hannah 's room is the second door on her left. Are you her boyfriend? Don't worry, I won't tell."

"Honey, this is all a dream. Go back to bed." The young girl went back to sleep. That was Hannah. I was expected to kill a teenager.

I crept back to the room I had entered in. I froze when I saw the girl sitting up with her bedside lamp on staring right at me. "Care to tell me why you broke in? Or should I just cal the cops now?" Her hands played with her phone, next to the lamp.

"Hannah, listen to me. You aren't gonna believe me, but someone hired me to kill you, revenge on your dad or something." I rushed, "I'm not going to do it, but if I don't someone will. Come with me, come hide. It's the only way you'll be safe."

"Strange thing is, I do believe you. Give me one minute." The girl stood. She tiptoed around her bedroom for a few minutes, changing from her nightgown to jeans and a tight black turtleneck. She slipped on a pair of healed boots and quickly packed a bag. "Will this be enough?"

"Anything you don't have, I'll take care off." I went first out the window. She turned off the lights and followed me out.

(END)

* * *

"So you kidnapped her?" Halyn asked.

"She was planning on leaving. I just made sure she was safe." It was true. Her bag was already mostly packed and she told me she had a plan, just not a leave in the middle of the night kind. "We split my account until she graduated college and got married, when she refused to use it anymore." We were silent, "Now, I've told you mine, you tell me your's."

**A.N.** Now next chapter will clear up stuff with Sara and Juliette/Halyn. I wasn't planning this chapter, but I liked the idea. I also realize I stretched the ages a bit, making Neal and Sara have a 5 year gap, but deal with it, I like this plot point. Don't ruin it for me ;)


	13. Truth

"Story is quite simple. We got on the boat, Grandpa pretended to be the friendly boat keeper and Phil hid in the cabin. Eventually I gave Sara a drink laced with drugs. I knew your friend would be able to fix her."

"Don't act like it's no big deal! You can't go around killing people! Or even pretending to kill people. Let's start small. Why did you come to kill me?"

"I was hired."

"By..." I prompted.

"Gramps." She said, "He was pissed a Roux was running around using his teachings against us. He couldn't risk you spilling the beans."

"You said Dad sent you..."

"You didn't stick around long enough. After your first job there is a ceremony, you need a mom and dad, Gramps filled James's part and Aunt Linda took Mom's. It's a family joke, I forgot you weren't there."

"Are you going to keep blaming me for everything? They sent me to kill a teenager in the middle of the night? I'm not that guy. What was I supposed to do? "

"You should've taken me with you." And since I had untied her as means to get her to talk, three days ago, she stood and stormed off up the stairs.

I followed her, a few steps behind, to her room, the one we had shared when we were kids, our mom in the adjoining room. "Open the door."

"Not happening." Her voice cracked.

"Jules, come on, we need to talk." I begged, pressing my forehead against the door.

Slowly, the door opened just enough for me to see her face pressed against it.

"You never said goodbye." Tears welled up in her eyes. I pushed my way into the room and pulled her into my arms.

"I didn't think I'd have to. I'm here now though and I'm not going anywhere." I rested my chin on her head.

After what felt like minutes, she broke the silence, "I'll tell you the whole story. But promise me you'll listen to the whole thing?"

"I promise."

"What do you want to know first?"

"You and Darcy. Why him?"

"He reminded me of you."

"Why did Phil kill him?"

"Because I wouldn't. He was my test run. I was supposed to kill him and I refused. Phil stepped up. After that, Mom refused to train me anymore, so Gramps killed her and became my legal guardian. I had no choice."

"Well, you do now. So what's it going to be?"

She burrowed her head deeper into my chest, "Thank you."

My head hurt. My joints ached. I tentatively opened my eyes, the light came streaming in and I screamed. I felt like my head was being split in two. I thrashed around in the immensely soft bed. Through my eyelids I saw the lights dim and strong arms enveloped me, preventing the tthrashing. A soft "shh-ing" came in my ear and familiar cologne flooded my senses right before everything went black.

I had been sitting in the corner of the room since Mozzie came to get me yesterday morning. Sara had woken up before he could give her her daily medicine, some concoction for the massive hangover like sensation he said she would be experiencing. Moz had found Juliette and me in the living room, watching some news show. We rushed up stairs where I was able to pin her down and shield her from the unobstructed natural light rushing through the glass door and windows that made up the forth wall. Mozzie then gave her her shot and she went lip in my arms.

"That should hold her." Moz had joked, "Let us go downstairs and open that Heidsieck."

"Uh, Moz, I'm gonna stay here for a bit." I had curled up beside her and thought about how, eventually, I would have to tell her the truth, and if she didn't like the idea of me hiding the treasure from her. I slowly slid away from her, dreading the time she woke up.

"Neal?" her voice pulled me from my thoughts. I met her hazel eyes with mine and her face lit up, "Neal!" She started to push herself up, but halted, "Come here, I'm still a little dizzy."

"Sara, we need to talk." I wanted to get it over with.

"I just got here, there will be time to talk, come here!" She reached her arms out towards me.

"Actually, you've been here for a two or three weeks, but aside from that, we still need to talk."

"Fine, make it quick. I have some other stuff that we could do in mind."

"What do you remember from before you...passed out?"

"I remember your sister, Juliette and how we were on the boat with Jean and then I had a drink and that's all. Now come." She beckoned me again.

"There is something you need to know about me, and Juliette, and Jean." She sat attentive.

She might be dizzy, but she seemed to understand my words, so I went on telling her about the vast wealth my family had left me. I told her how even though I had it, I hated to use it, to the extent that when Kate and I had nothing and were next to starving I still refused to tap into it.

"I already knew about the money, Neal, you did buy me a bunch of dresses with it." Another part of Halyn's ruse? I let it slide.

"Do you know how they got it?" I asked tentatively. She shook her head. "They are assassins. One per generation, with at least three agents living at all times. I was supposed to be one, I refused, Phillip took over my spot. That made three, my grandpa, Jean, Phillip and my uncle. There was still this ancient rule that every blood member must be fully trained, do a field run at age 18 and have all fine tuning done by 25 when, if needed, they assume their role in the family business. Grandpa was the only one who really believed in it anymore, the rest of use were just going along with it because, well, he could kill us. When I went on my field run, I ran away from it all. After that, my mother refused to continue teaching Juliet, so she was killed and Grandpa took Juliet into his care."

"That all?" Sara asked in my pause.

"Not by a long shot." I went on to explain the motive behind Juliette's trip here and what happened on the boat. The entire conversation took about twenty minutes, "Oh, and her name is Halyn, not Juliette. She changed it after Phil killed her boyfriend." I waited for her to say something, "I'm done."

"Sorry I was waiting for the 'gotcha' or the 'just kidding, we won one of those lotteries for you and a love one!'" She scanned my face, looking for something to confirm her suspicions. She had that force half-smile on her face, like she already knew the answer to her next question, "But those aren't coming are they?"

"No. They aren't."

"Ok." She said shortly, "Just give me a minute. I need to process this." The room was silent for a while, "Can you leave me alone, just for a minute."

"Ya, I'll be downstairs in the kitchen. If you leave this room and take a right and go right sown the stairs. It'll be right there on your left." I walked over to her bedside, "Can I?"

"Go ahead." She shrugged. I kissed the top of her head, filling my lungs with her scent, feeling a void being filled, a void I didn't realize I had.

"I'll be in the kitchen. If you need me just call."

"I will." She whispered, more to herself than to me.


	14. Arrivals

"You tell her?" Halyn leaned over the back of the couch. She was dressed in workout gear she had brought, the Wii controller in her hands and her "trainer" trying to motivate her on the screen.

"Of course." I walked around and flopped down beside her. She watched me intently. "I didn't tell her about her sister."

"Will you?"

"Eventually, I will. I think she's had enough for one day. I'm going to cook up some of the fish we caught the other day, want some?"

"Yes please!" I went into the kitchen and she went back to her game.

I kept looking up at the stairs, directly across from the counter I was working on. I kept waiting to see her descending the stairs, but it didn't happen. It didn't happen all day. So it was at 8 I climbed the stairs with a plate of dinner. I tentatively knocked on the door. No answer. I slowly eased the door open. She wasn't there.

I walked in the room and set the plate down on the nightstand. I made my way over to the closed bathroom door. I timidly knocked on the door, "Sara?"

"Go away, Neal! I need a minute." She sounded weak.

"Sara, is everything ok?" I asked with more force.

"Everything is f-fine Neal." Her voice broke.

"Sara, I'm coming in." The door was locked. I knew the layout of the bathroom, it was huge, nothing near the door. It wouldn't hit her so I rammed my shoulder into the door, forcing it open. The sight that met me wasn't a pretty one. "Mozzie! Get up here! Sara what happened?" She was soaked in blood. She was slumped against the bathtub.

"Holy-"

"Mozzie! What do we do?"

"Get her in the bathtub. Warm water. It might help stop the bleeding. We need a doctor, Neal." I knew it had to be bad if Mozzie was admitting to needing help of a doctor.

"Get Halyn, she's in Med school she said. Call someone too just in case." The tub was half full so I lifted Sara in, cloths and all. Mozzie fled the room, "Sara what's happening?"

She had gotten suddenly weak, like her words to me through the door had taken all she had, but she still managed to point to the toilet. I slowly inched away from her, still watching, ready to grab her at any moment. When I finally made it into the toilet I lifted the lid and inside saw a bloody mass.

"It...It just slipped out." Now she was crying, "I didn't even know..."

"Neal, get her out of there. We have a boat waiting to take her to the city." It was Hayln. I did as was told.

Mozzie met us at the bottom of the stairs. My cloths were already coated in blood, even through the towels we had wrapped around her, "Mozzie, in the toilet, bury it."

* * *

"Neal?" I locked my eyes on his slender frame, slumped in a chair across from where I sat, unmistakable even in the darkness.

His body jerked and his eyes opened at the sound of his name, "Sara, you're awake." The relief was evident. "You're alright."

"Neal, what happened?" I remembered his confession and lying in bed all day, trying to make sense of French TV with 2 years of the language back in middle school, then a sharp pain in the pit of my stomach and then it was all a sort of blur.

The lights went on and I could see him in full. He was dressed in the same pants, shirt and tie as when I last saw him, the tie was loosened and merely hung around his neck. His face was lined with worry making him look a solid ten years older.

"Sara, you miscarried." He stated, taking my hand in his.

"Wh-what?" I miscarried? I wasn't even pregnant.

"I'm going to get the doctor, he'll explain it." Neal left the room, leaving me alone. I lifted the sheets and saw stitching marks going across my lover stomach, right were the baby had been. I prodded it gently with the tips of my fingers, ignoring the pain.

"Ah, Mrs. Caffrey, your finally awake." My eyes snapped to the doctor, he was obviously talking to me, but _Mrs. Caffrey?_ I met eyes with Neal over his shoulder and he gave a half smile with a shrug.

"Please, Doctor, just tell me what happened. We didn't even know we were pregnant." I jumped on with the lying game.

"Well, when you were on a birth control pill am I correct?" I nodded, "Well, the effects of the pill weakened placenta, but there should have been no blood."

"I use ones for 4 times a year." He jotted down the name of the brand.

"You were in your second trimester. I around say around 20 weeks or so. With the dose of drugs you were slipped at the bar with your sister-in-law last night, that ruined the placenta and you miscarried, or gave birth." I looked at him questioningly, "It would be a little late for a typical miscarriage, but early for birth." The man asked me a series of questions regarding health care and medication, most of which Neal answered, before leaving as alone.

"I think I'm ready to talk." I spoke, he emitted a single short laugh.

"Sorry, it's just odd how well you're taking this." He shook his head.

"I'm trying not to think about it. It's gone, you're still here, for now." I didn't realize how blunt it sounded until it was out. I felt tears welling in my eyes.

"Oh, Sara..." He crossed the room in two strides and sat on the edge of my bed, pulling me into his chest, minding my tubes and needles. "I'm not leaving,"

"You said that when I found out you had the treasure. " I sniffled, burying my head deeper into his hard chest. I didn't want him to see me in my weakness.

"Sara, look at me." He leaned back, pushing me away just far enough so he could pull me back to him, meeting my lips with his. I felt like a starved man being given food, but I resisted the urge to rush it, I let the kiss stay tender. He finally pulled away, leaving his face so close that if I puckered my lips, I could reach his, "I am not leaving you, Sara. I'm here to stay."

"Hey, Neal, I got your call and hopped on the first flight over. Is she ok?" A woman was standing in the doorway. I examined her over Neal's shoulder. She had hazel eyes and brown hair with a hint of red in it and appeared to be aged somewhere between Neal and I. I knew her, but I couldn't place the woman no matter how hard I tried, but the she pulled her hair back behind her ear. A birthmark, in the shape of a heart, on her temple.

I looked at Neal's face, a little farther from me now, but it was graced with that mischievous smile. The worried man gone, Neal Caffrey was back. And with this man being Caffrey, I didn't feel entirely crazy when the name slipped from my lips, "Hannah?"


	15. Chances

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. I hadn't seen her for over 15 years. I knew it was a stretch, seeing a 30-something year old woman with hazel eyes and reddish-brown hair and assuming it was my long lost sister?

"I'll leave you two alone." Neal left the room, leaving me alone with this woman. The woman took Neal's seat on the edge of my bed.

"Hannah? Is that you?" I felt as though I was 13 years old again, transported back into that lavender themed bedroom.

"Ya, kiddo, it's me." She smiled sadly at me, "But I tend to go by Allison Morelli nowadays."

"Italian? You don't have much of an Italian appearance now do you?" I tried to keep the tone light, reuniting with a sister after 15 years after a miscarriage could get heavy.

"My maiden name is Allison Jones. I'm married for five years, with three kids, one girl and two boys." The sad smile still gracing her face.

"I'm an aunt?" I was dumb founded.

"Ya, but we'll talk about that later. You were never a very good liar, Sara." She smiled, I couldn't meet her eyes, "You knew. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I didn't want to lose it. I found out right before Neal went on the run. I was planning on telling him after his hearing, I figured either it couldn't get worse or he'd be too happy for it to kill his buzz."

"Or he'd be thrilled. Ever think of that?" She gave me the look a disapproving mother would give her five-year-old daughter for saying a "bad word."

"It's Neal Caffrey, he can't be tied down, he runs, it's what he does."

"Neal wouldn't have run. He's great with the kids and, honestly, he seems more broken up about it than you are. I've gone through pregnancies. I had a miscarriage too, it wasn't planned, almost exactly like your situation, except, I was in my own country and the dad wasn't on the run, but I was still broken up over it. Come on, Sara, let it out." I collapsed into my sister's arms.

I had been so strong my entire life. I hadn't cried as the abandoned 13-year-old girl when her sister disappeared in the night. I hadn't cried as the 15-year-old girl when everyone said he wasn't coming back. I hadn't cried when I was a 19-year-old and my parents died. I hadn't cried when I was a 29-year old woman and my fiancée left me. But now that I had lost a part of me, a part of Neal, I started sobbing, "Everyone leaves me. Mom and Dad died. You left? Were kidnapped and never came back? My fiancée left me. Neal left and now the baby is gone. I figured Neal wouldn't leave, he was on a 2-mile leash, he couldn't leave, but being Neal, he found a way to. With Neal being gone, the baby was a part of him, the best I could have, but apparently I can't even have that." I was curled up in a ball away from her now, sobbing into my blankets with my sister stroking my back.

"Excuse me, Miss, but we need to change Mrs. Caffrey's bandages." A nurse interupted, "But, I could come back."

"No, it's fine." I insisted.

* * *

"I'll be in the waiting room."

"So what'd she say?" Neal asked as soon as I appeared in the waiting room where he was hunched over in his chair, the distraught man once again.

"Answer some questions first. Did you tell her about us?"

"No."

"Did you know about the baby?"

"Not even a hint."

"Had you known, would you've wanted it?"

"Yes."

"And if set free at your hearing, would you have stuck around and played an active part in your child's life?"

"So it is mine." He offered a sad smile.

"Yes. Now answer."

"I would stick around no matter what." His eyes met mine and I knew he was sincere.

"You should really go talk to her about it. I don't want to be the messanger."

"Come on..."

"Nope. Go." The man stood and walked away from me to Sara's room. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude." I heard down the hall.

* * *

"Please Mr. Caffrey, she's your wife. I'll be done in just a moment." The young nurse smiled at me. She worked quickly, not compromising her skill, "I'm sorry for your loss." She scurried from the room.

"So wifey? How are you doing?" I teased. I didn't want to get her down, after all her face was red and tear streaked.

"Not the time." She crossed her arms and rolled over away from me.

I sighed and walked around the bed, crouching so I would be at eye level, "I meant what I said, I'm not leaving you. As soon as you are released we are going to go back to the island and pack and then we, you, your sister, Halyn and I, will board a private flight directly to New York. Hughes and I talked; he is prepared to offer full immunity to Halyn and myself so long as we testify against the few remaining assassins left in our family."

"You're gonna turn on your family?"

"No. There are none left, I told Hughes this. He offered the two of us immunity for busting them. And he offered me a job as a paid consultant. Sara, things are going to be just like they were."

"That's great." I could tell she didn't mean it.

"Sara, I love you."

* * *

He had never said that before. Ever. He'd never accidentally let it slip, never whispered it in his sleep, and never said it after sex. "What?"

"I love you, Sara. And I know I didn't know it, but I loved that baby. It was our baby and I loved it so much." His eyes were pleading.

"What do you want me to say to that, Neal?" He had left.

"I want you to say you'll give it a chance. I want you to say that you'll go to an art exhibit that is opening next week." I looked away from him, "Just one date, and I'll tell you what happened to your sister."

"Are you bribing me?"

"No, I'm just telling you that in addition to asking you out, I will tell you what happened to your sister."

"Spill." He would tell me now, then we could see about the date.


	16. Departure

I was discharged from the hospital a few days later with the instructions of no sex for a month and to stay out of pools of water along with the condolences and well wishes. Neal had packed all our belongings from the house and was sending them back to the states. We were set to board a flight in two hours, which is why we were sitting in the black SUV, Neal driving and Halyn sitting beside him, riding shotgun. Mozzie had declined our invitation to return home, so I was riding in the back seat, alone when I nodded off.

"Neal?" I inclined my head slightly, so she would know I was listening, "What's our dad like?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in... almost thirty years." God, I was getting old.

"Then what was he like?"

"I thought you met him."

"I followed him. I never met him." She sighed, "Come on, just tell me."

"He was a great cop, a great dad." I paused, "We lived in Boston, he took me to Red Sox games every year on my birthday, until I turned seven and told him I didn't like the game. So he took me to see the Celtics that year. I didn't like that either. When I turned eight, he got court side seats, said it was a big day. I told him to give up; I told him I liked Mom better because she didn't take me stupid places. The next day Mom told me he died in action. She told me he was a hero. That was when she started my gun training, said I was the man of the family."

I checked in my rearview mirror, preparing to merge into the lane entering the highway. I swear to God, I saw a flash of hazel, but when I looked back, Sara's eyes were shut and her breathing seemed regular. I watched her breathing, slipping into the autopilot all Rouxs were capable of.

"You really shouldn't do that." Halyn said, looking amused. I shifted my gaze to meet hers in the mirror.

"Do what?"

"Lead her on. You led Alex on, dumped her. Led Kate on, she's dead." Blunt. Halyn always was blunt.

"I will say this once and only once. I am not leading her on, I didn't lead Kate or Alex on. It's called dating, you should try it sometimes."

"Sara is entirely different from the other two. Kate and Alex were cons. Sara is what? A half-suit? She's too goodie goodie." I shot her a look, "She's great and all, but she's not...you."

I pulled into the parking lot of the valet, I opened the door and met my sister's eyes, "That's why I love her."

I handed the keys to the valet and woke Sara. Several valets flocked around the car, they knew it, they knew the tips it that it meant. I gave each suitcase to a separate man; there was enough wealth to go around, after all. Another man, one I knew by sight, came up and ensured me the car would be parked in its usual space before speeding off with it.

* * *

"Neal?" I looked up at my sister sitting across from me.

"How much longer?" I smiled, she was still young, she would still ask that question.

"We are about half way through. Six more hours." I was tired. I hadn't slept since the night before the girls had arrived aside from nodding off for twenty minutes at most.

I met her eyes, "Neal, I want to meet Dad."

* * *

"Come on, Sara. Get up." I nudged the woman sleeping beside me. Her eyes opened, groggy with sleep.

"Five more minutes..." she turned in her seat.

"Halyn, take the bag?" She did as instructed, taking the only carryon we had. "Ready Sara?" She whined a bit. I slid one arm under her knees and wrapped the other around her torso, pulling her to me. This was how we departed the private jet and entered into JFK.


	17. Reset

I stayed behind Neal and Sara when we entered the terminal. I watched him tote her through the crowd with ease, like she was actually the small bag that I had. Neal had made the best of the hand he was dealt. He grew up with his mom training him to kill behind his father's back. His mother hid billions of dollars of money earned from politicians and governments and the average Joe all over the world. Some how Neal came out on top, but that was Neal. Neal could do anything as far as I was concerned, maybe I only thought that because he was my big brother, but all I know for certain was Neal went from assassin to conman to F.B.I. pet and now, from what I heard, paid F.B.I. consultant. Poster boy for reform.

"Neal!" A man's voice came through my thoughts. I recognized that voice from all those weeks of following Neal and Dad and Ellen around. The F.B.I. agent who had owned Neal.

"Peter." Neal freed one hand and shook the older man's, "Good to see you. Elle." He gave the woman, Peter's wife?, a hug to the best of his ability, all the while supporting Sara.

"How's she doing?" Elle asked Neal, gesturing to Sara.

"She hasn't spoken of it. She just sleeps most of the time. It took a lot out of her." I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was worried about Sara, he sounded a hundred years older than what he really was.

The group was silent. I just hovered about; close enough to hear, far enough to not be noticed. I could flee if needed, but I could fight if necessary. It was Sara who broke the silence, "Wha- Neal, put me down." He did as he was told, holding her steady as her body adjusted to its weight.

"Neal, do you recognize that girl?" Peter gestured to me, trying to be discrete. That was when I realized how I knew him.

"Agent Peter Burke. How nice to see you again!" I smiled tauntingly at him, shaking his hand.

"Jessica Forth. Nice to see you again." He gave me the same disapproving gaze he had given me while interrogating me. "Neal, usually your street contacts aren't..."

"Beautiful? Trained in 32 different languages? All around amazing?" I filled in the blank.

"Capable of getting away with murder." Burke said bluntly.

"Halyn. What did you do?" Neal turned on me all big-brothery.

"Nothing he can prove, plus I have immunity for all past crimes right?" I smirked.

"You're related aren't you?"

"You think I'm good enough to be related to the infamous Neal Caffrey? Well, I'm flattered." I feigned flattery.

"She's my baby sister. Halyn Roux." Neal introduced me.

"Roux?" Elle's brow furrowed, "No relation to Jean Roux? The French multi-billionaire? Did you hear, he was found dead in his house, murdered along with his grandson. Cops think it was a murder-suicide, there was a note and everything. "

Peter and Neal exchanged a look, "Didn't tell her?"

"Didn't tell me what?" Elle looked at the two men.

"Hughes signed off?" Peter looked at Neal.

"He said all was forgiven." Neal smirked.

"Neal." A woman was waiting at the doorway, "So nice to have you back." The older woman gave Neal a warm hug; she reminded me of the grandmother I never had.

"It's nice to be back, June." I tore my eyes away from Neal and his landlady to scan the building.

It was huge. It reminded me of a castle in the middle of New York City. It stood three stories tall, with a terrace on top the roof.

"June, I was wondering if you had another spare room, one for Halyn." Neal spoke.

"Cindy got an apartment, halfway between Columbia and here. Halyn, was it? She can have Cindy's old room."

"Thank you so much, June. Now if you don't mind, I am going to get stared on your favorite meal." Neal went inside. I followed him into my new life.


End file.
